Los Angeles. The City of Angels. Although still a thriving metropolis, the last fifty years have been hard on the city. Earthquakes, racial tension, and political scandal have stained the city's history, and with the turn of the millennium, the one word most people would use to describe the city is 'changing'. From the streets, gang violence is at an all-time high, with hundreds dying a year to the wars in the neighborhoods. Drug abuse is climbing, and corruption at all levels of society has only grown. Politically, many are turning to extremist viewpoints, grasping at straws for any chance to solve these issues which plague their day to day lives. Mothers are tired of losing their sons and daughters, the every day worker hoping for a brighter tomorrow.

However, perhaps the largest change is in the people themselves. In the past five years many have gained strange and unique powers, unexplainable in nature. These individuals are referred to by many terms. Capes, heroes, villains, metas, parahumans, supers. Whatever you call them, Los Angeles has perhaps the highest rates of active superhumans in the US, with several hundred registered in the city and its incorporated communities. Not only that, but hundreds, perhaps thousands more go unregistered in LA, living their lives normally or hiding their abilities from prying eyes. Why LA has so many of these parahumans, nobody knows.

It is now August 1st, 2015. The city has just recently gone under another major change; Its protectors, The Magi, have left. Their once beloved Heroes have been assigned a new mission, to guard the Death Valley Maximum-Security Prison for Parahumans, also known as 'The Sleeper Facility'. Replacing them are a group of metas, seemingly adopted from around the country. In reality, the ones present were the only capes that accepted the unattractive offer from the Federal government. They will be put through their paces in the days to come, as challenge after challenge faces them.

In the city, however, there are other metas who may not agree with these 'protectors'. Unregistered metas , sometimes gathering in small groups, often make contracts with local businesses and VIPs. LA is especially rife with these Mercenaries, as everyone from movie stars to CEOs desire protection from these exceptionally powerful people. Mercenary jobs are often highly competitive, for even short stints. Not only that, but many corporations desire capes with powers slated to their field. One such corporation is owned by the Cabrillo Group, a blanket foundation comprising of hundreds of incorporated businesses. They hope to maintain a leading edge, with their exceptional metas leading the charge.

Unfortunately for the city and its inhabitants, the mettle of its superhumans will be put to the test. Los Angeles will be going through trying times in the future. Will it stand tall, overcoming these obstacles, or fall and burn to the ground?

---

This is the opening of the RP. Once everyone's had a chance to post, I will be dropping the first plot hook. I'd encourage everyone to try and take part, as the majority of the action will revolve around these hooks!

Alexander Scython, known as 'Anonymous', is a mercenary. He worked mostly with jobs where he protected people, often celebrities. He was sitting in the office of important businessman Elandro Sineco, who worked in the criminal empire, a large target for assassins. A contract was layed on the desk infront of him. He read it over, and smirked behind his mask. The price was low, way lower then this fat bastard was worth. He took the contract and folded it into a paper airplane, sending it flying into the air and quickly taking out his pistol, shooting multiple jokes in it before it began falling down. It landed in the wastebasket, and he left.

He was running and jumping across roofs in a housing area, now. He liked to spend his time parkouring across the rooftops when he didn't have a job at the moment. He was quite bored, mostly just waiting for something to happen. Maybe if the heroes came out he'd be able to mess with them. For now, he was stuck waiting.

The city of Los Angeles wad an interested place, to him. Everywhere he looked, something wad happening; wether it be that somebody wad getting mugged or a super was doing their job. He found it was a good place to be a merc, most other cities he tried being a merc at didn't turn out well, nobody really needed one. But this place, it seemed like everybody needed one. It was a good place for people like him.

Shen gazed out across the city skyline. He regretted it; his memories of the shoreline, walking with Sensei, always intruded on such events. They would visit the beach and contemplate reality together. But those days were a year gone, and Shen had acclimated himself to a far different reality. Still...gazing out at the horizon gave him a distinct feeling of reminiscence of those days. He scoffed at himself as he remembered carrying 40lb weights in each arm, trying desperately to maintain the Crane Stance on any given one of the wooden stumps which lined the piers. Sensei was with him still, despite his death over a year ago.

When he looked into his mirror, he felt the distinct impression that there should have been one less man staring back at him, but Shen had "always been Shen". It was odd, the sort of mental gymnastics he had to complete in order to forget his previous life. In times of self-doubt, he always had Sensei to turn to. He remembered proverbs, exercises and thought experiments, but never those six years during which he could not produce any tangible memories. He often entertained himself with the idea that those years were not worth remembering, as Sensei had given him his life in return.

Still, Shen's expression was forlorn in the picture window which faced west in his pretentious apartment. Why had he settled here, when the alleys and back-streets had always been good enough for his training in years past? He allowed himself to believe that Sensei would have wanted it; that he somehow would have predicted this paradise for him. But it was a comfortable lie.

Shen decided on some meditative kata before he would allow himself to be seen again. His students would expect him to show up on-time, after all. Even if they were Hollywood cream-puffs, they deserved every bit the same respect Sensei had shown him.

"Sensei," Shen mused. "What have you left me to do?

"Working Girl"

Cypress was enjoying her day at work at Aperture Labs as she used her talent as a friction manipulator to help assemble the high tolerance parts of a new type of power generator for use on earth's newest space station. Normally before she was hired this project might have taken several days but with her adding her talent would be finished in less than three hours.

At the moment two massive assemblies were sliding so smoothly past each other that the small army of engineers and scientists had difficulty believing what their monitors were telling them was true.

"This is where the Rapapng project failed when the shield and generator assemblies locked together so tight that they had to be scrapped" says chief engineer Kline to his counterpart Doctor Wilder

Doctor Wilder stood riveted watching Cypress as the Platinum haired young woman stood in an enormous room below as the multi-billion dollar Space station generator moved it's last few centimeters.
She was waiting for the Meta's final trick in this nerve racking show.

Dr. Wilder who'd worked with other Meta on other projects was so used to their displays of raw power that to stand here and observe such fine control was awe inspiring.

Cypress stepped close to the assemblies her eyes on a centering meter that measured in centimeters down to microns of perfect alignment. Taking a deep breath she touched the huge generator section an applied her second ability which allowed her to control horizontal inertia.

Slower and slower the two multi-ton parts began to move till suddenly they simply stopped as if welded together. Frowning Cypress looked at the centering meter and began moving the parts back and forth for about five minutes till she had stopped and was about to try again when Doc Wilder said over the intercom that she should stop.

"Okay Doc but I'm sure if you'll let me keep going I could balance the center out" said Cypress with a warm honey soaked southern drawl

Doctor Wilder could only laugh as the young woman offered to accomplish the impossible. If she'd have been anyone else Dr. Wilder would have thought them arrogant but Cypress's offer came from simple innocence and desire to do her best.

Cypress tore off the paper clean suit as soon as she exited the assembly room and stretched her lithe body out enjoying being able to power down after being up for over an hour.

The project workers and their bosses surrounded Cypress congratulating her along with themselves for a job well done. They had just accomplished a job which had failed twice already and if it had this time would have been cast into the oblivion which all theoretical tech was discarded into for the lack of the ability to make work.

Cypress enjoyed being the center of attention in the room full of geniuses and the cake was wonderful. But like all good things that too must pass as her Public Relations handler entered and reminded Cypress of her schedule which required she do a photo shoot for the company's ad department.

"How Lovely, The Life of an Icon" she thought with a giggle as she headed out to a waiting company limo.

Jackson, better known as Mist in the mercenary underground, found his day to be just as boring as it always seemed to be. Nothing to do, no jobs to handle, no crazy people to smack.... It was almost excruciating, how bored he felt. But of course, in a world like this, fate never let a man stay bored for long. Always, there was an accidental run-in, a glance, a job. -Something- always came up, no matter what he might be doing. Today, that proved to be running rooftops out of idle boredom.

And as luck would have it, he was in the same neighborhood as a familiar face.... Well, familiar mask, at least. He was in the air between a pair of houses when he caught a glimpse of Anonymous in that silly outfit of his jumping a few roofs over, and a grin crossed his features. To bug him, or not to bug him..... Always, that is the question! It seemed he decided on the former, however, as just before he landed on the next roof, he just.... Vanished. Poof. Gone, naught but a quickly-fading cloud of mist in his wake. And a bare blink later? He reappeared on another roof some street or so away, right beside Anonymous. Even, humorous tones leeched forth as he idly straightened out his duster, lofting a brow.
"Still wearing that ridiculous outfit then, little Anon?"

While the words might seem a bit harsh, the light humor in his tone softened them, more a gruff tease than an outright insult. After all, Mist would never miss his chance to make fun of people in costumes! Such a silly idea.

Eden sat on the edge of her large, white bed, already dressed in her black catsuit, hood up and zipped tight. She pulled on one boot at a time and zipped those up as well, the moonlight from the evening sky shining in through her floor to ceiling windows that let her gaze into the cityscape each morning and night. She stood and walked over to the window, taking out her mask, and tying it around her eyes. A few wisps of white hair tried to stick to her hand as she pulled it back out of her hood. The last minute items were her archery accessories, hand and arm guard, quiver, and her all black bow. She turned away from her apartment and headed down the hall to the stairs. Before she had started doing this little, vigilante, anti-hero routine, she’d taken out all the cameras in her hallway and the stairwells from her floor down. The super didn’t care or at least seem to notice. She checked periodically and they’d never been fixed. Then again, neither had the smell from 12B she and others had been complaining about for months.

Eden made it out through an emergency exit she’d figured out how to disable, and headed outside, sticking to the shadows. After all, that’s where most crime happened anyway, wasn’t it? Tonight though, her feet led her towards her past without her even thinking about it. She soon found herself in the alley behind a large brick building that read “Los Angeles Children’s Orphanage” on the front. She hesitated getting any closer, just letting her wide blue eyes peer from the alleyway into the windows, glowing dully with yellow. Children inside, some happy, some crying. It seemed the workers were all in one room tonight, playing cards, smoking, and laughing. Well, better than the alternative that she’d experienced. She slowly walked towards the building, climbing the windows silently with memory in her fingers, before reaching the roof. From up here she sat on the edge, legs dangling over, awaiting a gun shot, a scream of fire, simply an event to give her purpose.

Jason was surprised Aperture had actually called him in to do what he was trained to do and not just to negotiate with someone. He hadn't done much electrical work since he took on his contract with the company. He was just lucky they had picked him up, business was slow for his dad, Jason wasn't even sure he would keep his son as an apprentice. But Aperture picked an electrical company at random, found Jason, now money wasn't an issue. Currently he was just finishing up fixing some lighting for a photo shoot they were planing. Some of the lights wouldn't turn on and the people there couldn't figure out why. Part of his contract was Evander Electrical would be their primary contractors for such things, so business was good. Jason had just closed up the panel when one of the photographers offered him to stay and watch, he figured why not, might as well see what all the fuss was about.

Anonymous stopped ruining when Mist teleported over to him. He leaned in the edge of the roof and chuckled at his comment. "Everybody needs their look." replied, before smirking behind his mask. "How ya been Mist?" He asked. It had been not too long before they had crossed paths before this, maybe a day or a few. He decided to take it his pistol as a crow flew by. He shot it through the heart. Good target practice.

Mona Lisa Smiles

Cypress stepped out of the company limo and strutted past the few Pavarotzi camped outside as they shouted questions an requests at her.

She walked into the studios as if she owned the place, a serene smile gracing her lips. She had to smile because she was about to break out into laughter at her own actions, never had she acted so haughty an self important in her life but her handlers insisted.

"It is important that people believe you're the ultimate Meta Female out there" they'd told her. They said that people believed what they saw and if they saw her as a diva then they'd think of her as a diva.

"Well they sign the checks" she'd thought when they taught her how to walk and to carry herself. She did though draw the line when they tried to insist she take elocution an speech lessons, hell she already felt like such a phony.

Once she was lead to the studio where they would be doing her publicity shoot Cypress relaxed and wandered over to a catering table.

"Yummy" she said as she began filling a plate with all the sweet goodies she could fit. A few people around her looked stunned at the volume and she just winked then grabbed a seat to stuff her mouth as if she were starving which she was. Cypress doubted any of these people knew that as a Meta she could burn huge amounts of calories and never show a hint of gain and she especially needed to eat after stressing her power over long periods.

A man dressed in a tight black tee an matching tight jeans walked in followed by a small flock of hanger ons. He was about 55 and in good shape with gray blue eyes that reminded Cypress of a falcon's and his expression was as stern as the judge on his bench.

He gazed around the room and when he saw Cypress his expression became like a child's who'd spied a large piece of cake and a cute puppy.

"Come Bella, come natural, come semplice eppure indescrivibile" he said as he practically ran towards an swept her from her chair an hugged her the kissed her lightly as he exclaimed "Bella, bella, bella"

When he released her Cypress was blushing because even though she didn't speak Italian she knew Bella meant Beautiful.

"I am Carlo Vespuchi my Goddess and a pleasure it is to meet you" he said taking her hand an kissing it lightly

Soon Cypress was immersed deeply into the word of the Super model as they had her dress in all sort of fashion and when Carlo loved it he an two other photographers took pictures of her as they had he basically dance to music for them; Carlo said it would awaken her secret sexuality.

Cypress didn't know about secret sex but she was having fun goofing around in fashions she'd have never tried on her own. She felt silly through most of it but she loved being silly in serious situations because it helped her relax.

When the session was nearly over Carlo gave her an encouraging smile and asked her was there something she could do that no one else could. He'd made all this so fun that Cypress found herself thinking about his question for a moment.

As she thought she spied a black sequined dress that was cut so short as to be indecent and more fit for an Ice skater and that gave her an idea.

Quickly changing with the help of the fitters Cypress astounded her audience as she began using the floor an walls of the Studio as an Ice skating rink. It took Carlo moment to react to her display but he had to yell at his assistant photogs to get them to pick up their cameras an capture the show.

Carlo marveled at her and flattered her so much that by the time she finished she was red cheeked and shy. He kissed her hands showering her with praise then kissed her lips exclaiming once more Bella, bella even as he begged her leave to work.

Cypress dressed back into her simple street clothes and headed out to the company limo which took her home so she could relax before having to go out that evening and tour the right clubs.

Adrian lived his life on a simple principle. Do more Good than Harm. It was close to a religion to him. It was how he justified his actions. For every single being he hurt he tried to save two, it felt right and it was why he was a Hero instead of a Mercenary or a working for a company. They all had ulterior motives, a stereotype he knew, but it was one he stuck to. Do more Good than Harm. The simpler the rule the easier it was to follow. Easier than the law anyway.

Adrian was sitting at home taking notes in his pocket book, watching the news about one of his more recent escapades where he foiled a bank robbery. It legitimately surprised him when there were bank robbers thinking "Who actually robs a bank where there are advertised Superheroes in the city?"

It was insane, Adrian didn't even need to leave his now normal 3/4 weight to deal with them. As always though he watched the news and took note of who was affected and how. Physically, psychologically and economically. Adrian wasn't so idealistic that he thought that he could actually help all those people, but he wrote them down so he could keep tally of how much harm he had done. Stopping the robbers was good, but not stopping them before people were hurt was bad as was the fact that the robbers were put in a situation desperate enough to even try rob a bank he city full of heroes. On his worst days Adrian thought that he would continually be working at a loss, that no matter how much good he does that he will harm just as much if not more. That wasn't today though.

When he finished accounting all the harm that came from stopping the crime Adrian closed the pocket book and went over to his desk, opening the secret compartment after Pushing the metal switch hidden deep within the mahogany. The top of the desk opened to reveal a veritable library of pocket books, all filled with the consequences of his actions. Adrian knew he couldn't help them all, but he could always help more than he hurt. A timer on the wall went of. Resealing the desk Adrian suited up and in contrast to other heroes Adrian literally put on a suit.

Other heroes had costumes and aliases that hid themselves from the public, Adrian couldn't bring himself to do that. It made him feel like he had an imaginary scapegoat that he could unload all responsibility on to. He didn't dislike or hold it against anyone with superpowers, but it did rub him the wrong way. Stepping outside, with coins hidden everywhere throughout his attire Adrian walked out and dropped one to the ground and then Pushed, sending himself soaring into the sky.

Adrian loved big cities, big cities always had a lot of metal and most of it was in the buildings making it easy for him to get around. Sure it wasn't flying exactly, but his metal leaping felt more unique anyway. Bouncing around the city felt visceral to him. Coming to a stop on top of some building Adrian sat down, legs hanging over the edge, and flipped a coin Pushing it extremely high as he did and waited. Across the street a public building anyone could come up and do whatever they felt like. Being a tall building 'whatever they felt like' usually involved jumping, so Adrian sat on the taller private building near by. Each day Adrian tried to come up here and act as a Guardian Angel, it was good for his conscience.

Catching the coin as it fell down, Adrian watched and waited.

Staring out across the city, Rozalia sighed quietly as she took in all the lights. It was supposed to be night, and yet, up here, it looked as bright as day. The stars were hidden by a cloud of smog and blinded out by the electric lights of the city below, and Rozalia found herself wishing for the Italian countryside once again. In fact, at this point, any countryside would do. As long as it was out of the way of technology and pollution, and those damn lights that lit up the sky. Shaking her head slightly, she moved away from her balcony and back inside her apartment - it was fairly big, tastefully decorated, but there were no personal touches - no keepsakes, no photos, and no memories. It was a place she could ditch in a moment's notice without regretting to leave it.
Not that she expected to leave anytime soon. Becoming a Hero somewhat recently, Roze had realized there were certain perks to the job. For example - protection against crazy guys who had wanted her powers for as long as she could remember. Not that she needed the protection -it was just nice to stay in one place for a prolonged amount of time without having to worry about crazies showing up in her downtime. When she was working, she was happy to deal with them
Speaking of work, she decided it was high time to go out for a look over the city. Already dressed in her armour, she put up her hood and slipped the face mask on, so only her piercing blue eyes and top half of her head were visible. Taking in a deep breath of contentment, she threw herself off the balcony and rose in the air, floating for only a few seconds before taking off away from her apartment building, and deeper into the bowels of the city.

Los Angeles sucked. Traffic lights sucked. Drivers sucked. Pedestrians sucked. Police sucked. The whole city was just one big pile of suck.

And Connor loved every second of it. It was certainly different from what he knew back home, and that's what made it fascinating. He gunned the throttle on his bike and shot between two cars. He ignored the cursing and honking of the drivers as well add he ignored most things.

One thing he could not ignore, however, was the phone buzzing in his pocket. With a sigh he tapped the button on the side of his helmet and the blue tooth link connected.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm on me way in righ' now," he said before the caller could speak. "Don't be gettin' yer friggin panties in a bunch." With that he hung up and focused on driving. He swerved up onto the sidewalk to go around a slow moving car and nearly clipped a sexy looking girl walking down the sidewalk. "Sorry! " he called behind him.

Cold turned hot working for the government. Not how he wanted to go about his life but the alternative was prison or a life on the run. He chose to play ball.

For now.

The two men had waited for quite a while now. Tombsen and Tomb were not use to people having the nerve to show up late.
However when a slender woman in a black dress walked in, her every step seemed fueled by self-esteem. The skin was still moist from her evening swim, and her hair neatly combed.

“Gentlemen,” she spoke in a soft voice under the sound of her heels clicking while her finger slid along the huge table usually occupied by lawyers. “I trust you brought what I asked for.”

“Are you the one they call X?” Tombsen had said it just a bit too eager.

“Maybe, maybe not. Let’s say I am. Do you have what I asked for?”

With some hesitation one of the middle-aged men stepped forward and presented the briefcase before placing it on the surface of the table.

“Well, thank you, good sirs. Nice doing business with ya,” was her only response, not even opening it to see if the money was there. She just pulled out a CD from her purse, threw it to the nearest man in a suit and started walking out with the case.
In strong contrast to the two men at the law firm, she did not seem nervous at all. Doing dirty business was apparently just another day.

This however did not go well with Tomb.
“Hey!” he called. The man with the rough look in a clean suit swung the disc like a piece of evidence in a courtroom. “Hey, how can we know this is the only copy of the data?”

Now the woman with curvy cheekbones stopped. She didn’t get back there immediately. No, for a moment she just stood there before turning 180 degrees and walking right up in the man’s face. Somehow it seemed like only a second had passed by before his heavy breath was in her face.
With a bit of a forced smile, she tilted her head just slightly and said smoothly: “Well, whoever gave you my number must have been satisfied, right?”
His partner was about to open his mouth, but she didn’t let him.
“I don’t really care what’s on that disc,” she continued. “You see when you deal with me it’s capitalism at its finest. You buy a product, you get what you paid for. Now, looking at you two fine men sweating, any moron can tell, you aren’t use to breaking the rules; you don’t live in that world.”
In a calm fashion the young woman started correcting the man in front’s tie with just one hand, while the other held the briefcase with the money. There was a certain honesty about the way she expressed herself.
“You have now gotten a glimpse of my world, so my advice to you is this: Forget about X, forget about me. Because I will not forget about you and your firm, here. What happened here is part of a world you can never fathom, so don’t try.”
With those words she turned around and was out of the door and out of their sight in no time. Though the company had done business with her they were worlds apart, barely even speaking the same language as her. Even as lawyers they had the luxury of not knowing and not understanding.
It had not been what she said that left them mute, not the questions about how she managed to get the disc. It was the way she looked at them, the way she acted and spoke. That was what stayed with them even has her heels had disappeared out.

Elijah was sitting behind a beautiful mahogany desk. It was a wondrous handcrafted work of art, it was easy to see who ever made this truly loved their craft. It was also easy to see that whoever paid for it paid out the ass. It was to be expect as such, the custom made desk sent out message. It clear stated decadence, wealth, sophistication and power. Every inch of the hand made was a sight to behold... If you are into that sort of thing. It was without a doubt something that Elijah was not into. Sitting in a chair warp in soft and sleep worthy leather, his feet on top of this desk.The chair had to be made of some over the top material like Alligator or Ponies or some other sick and twisted thing that people with too much money buy. He sat with his feet up and his helmet off, sitting on the desk facing the door. He wanted to the man he was about to violently kill to know exact who it was and why he was going to do it. Still there was time to relax and have a little fun.

Elijah had a laptop open with an old country song playing. Sing along with a smile on this face and mouthing the sounds of the music during the vocals, and no sing along would be complete without playing the air instrument of his choice. One song lead to another, which lead to another. Before long Elijah's target had come into view. It took a minute for Eli to even notice someone else was in the room with him. He was caught off guard, the price you paid for being distracted. Once he saw his target, Elijah couldn't help but jump to his feet.

"Davey!" Elijah proclaimed. "Davey, come on in here and have seat. We have got to talk without delay." Elijah came rushing around the desk and ushered to him to a seat across the desk. As David was put into the selected chair, his face wore a look of confusion and uncertainty. "What...? What do we have to talk about Eli? And why do you look like that insane pyro running around town?" Elijah couldn't help but smile at the accusation. "Well Davey, I am that pyro." Elijah stated as if he was commenting on the weather. "As you know, we've been friends for a few months now and there has been... Some... unsettling things that have been said to me." Elijah took a deep breath and continued. "See I remember at the your sons birthday party the other week that, uh... comment you made about those two little girls. You remember right? Check those asses, put both of them together and their age become twenty-four. Sex before eight or its too late... Yeah." As soon as he finished speaking Elijah punched David in the face as hard as could form where he was sitting. David went from being a prototypical Hollywood big shot, to being just another person being unceremoniously killed by Elijahs Eruption powers.

David slowly got to his feet. "What the hell are you doing in my house!" Elijah quickly grabbed his helmet and slapped David in the face with it. Replacing the helmet back on the desk Elijah continued with his inquiry but not before correcting him. "Do. Not. Interrupt. Me. Davey" Elijah's voice was stern and angry. "So, that comment plus your past... Shall we say allegations? A family down the way from here has decided that you have raped their little girl Davey. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Davids eyes widen in horror. Shock, confusion and utter terror ran across Davids face. Stuttering and stammering throughout he tried to explain that the charges were dropped and nothing was ever proven. Like most of trials that involved the rich and powerful, nothing came of trail, all charges were dropped and justice was never served. All because they have the money and a small army of attorneys. Everyone that knew about the trail knew that he was guilty, but a technicality let him go free. An obscure law from the 1850's let him off the hook. While Elijah didn't normally care or get caught up in matters like this. He hated anyone that would harm a child, especially those that would rape or molest a little girl.

"Now I noticed that, nowhere in that little incoherent ramblings did you say that you didn't do it. That's... That's a big shame Davey." The gravity of the situation finally hit David. The fight or flight instinct was starting to kick in, the instinct was fight. It was easy and clear on his face that David was going to try something stupid in effort to not only live but kill Elijah. It was cute in its own way, the fact that David thought he had a chance to survive was just so adorable. "Davey, I get it, you think can win this but you can't." David broke in hurriedly. "Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it. Triple it if I have too! We can work this out! No one has to die!" Elijah couldn't help but smile. "Yes, yes you do have to die Davey. Plus It'd be rude to refund the twenty dollars they paid me."

"Twenty dollars!" David shouted. Elijah smile again and sat back on the desk. "Yep, you're only worth twenty bucks in gas money and now this conversation is over." With that said Elijah sent an elbow crashing down on Davids eye. Just as soon as he could he drew back and punched him again. This repeated until David was knocked out of the chair. David's face was already a bloody mess and it had only been a couple of punches. David had a soft face and even softer body. One born out of an easy life or at least one thats existed behind a desk. The exact opposite of Elijahs, his was a body made from a hard living and a great many ass kickings.

Elijah grabbed a leg and yanked hard on it. The goal was to flatten David out, and it worked just has he had hoped. As David's was flattened out on his stomach, Elijah let his plan into motion. Elijah calmly lifted his foot as it erupted into flames. He drew his leg back and kicked David sight in the ass. With his leg burning white hot, Elijahs foot went into David's body and came out just above the lower back. Every single inch of the wound was already cauterized. The Yelling and screaming only lasted for a few minutes. It had to be agonizing, painful and horrifying. Elijah had no idea how bad it hurt, but he had every idea of how hard it was to watch. He knew one could not compare to the other, but Elijah told himself that it did. After a growing tired of the yelling and screaming, Elijah walked up and erupted his right hand. After a moment or two Elijah snapped his fingers and his arm went full Nova and he sent a blast so hot that it not only incarnated but it also burned through the flooring as well. It was just then the idea of burning the house down. So with a few blasts of fire hear and there. It didn't take long before the room was up in flames. He disengaged his powers and calmly started to walk out.

Helmet in hand he stopped and reflected for a few seconds, not any longer, he didn't have the time. Just as soon as he was done he went back to that old song he was playing earlier. Back he went to singing, back he went to vocalizing the bass line. He couldn't help but feeling as if he should feel bad about what he did. Then he remember that little girl and just smile.

It was hotel, motel time. It didn't matter where he went he just couldn't stay there. After picking out a car from the many that David used to own, Elijah simply got in and drove away. The keys were as always tucked away in the center console. After a few hours at a bar, he'd ditch the car and make his way back home. Simple and clean, just the way it should be. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, synced it with the newly stolen car. He issued a few commands all which lead him to the goal of contacting those that let him loose on David. "It's done. I'll make contact with you in the next few days for payment. Do not even try to make contact without hearing from me. Till then." Elijah hung up and made his way to a safe house he maintained. After he changed clothes he would head to bar he enjoyed, but not before getting rid of the car. The only thing there was to do now was to crank up the radio and enjoy the ride.

Silas sat out on the balcony of his apartment with a wine glass in his hand. The glass was filled with just water tonight, as it had been every night before for a long time. He'd slept most of the day away after doing a job the night before, and tonight he was going out again. Why didn't evil ever get tired and just take a break? The "good guys" were always left playing catch up. He didn't have time to follow that thought down the rabbit hole though. It was about time to go.

Silas sighed and stood to bring his empty glass back inside when he heard what might have been a muffled yell from the alley not a hundred feet down the road from where his apartment building sat. Did he have time? Yeah, he could deal with this and still be where he needed to be with time to spare. It wasn't like he was one of those costume heroes who needed a good hour's warning if they were to be called upon to save anyone.

He set his glass on the balcony table and bent down to pull on his black shoes, and then Silas dropped himself over the side of the railing and fell fifty feet to the street below. He landed with hardly a sound, crouched out of reflex more than necessity. The sound had come from... yes, that was the alley there. Silas put on his sunglasses, the closest thing to a mask he would ever wear, and walked into the dark side street.

It was empty and silent. He probably would have just left then if the door to one of the building's basements hadn't been left open. But as it was, Silas just pushed the door the rest of the way open and followed down. He found pretty much exactly what he'd been expecting: some street thug trying to force himself onto some moderately attractive passerby. It was so boring dealing with these types day after day. One lazy kick was enough to send the man crashing into and very nearly through the concrete wall ten feet away. He could see that he'd come before anything serious had happened, so Silas just told the woman to watch herself and left.

Okay, now he had to get to the job. He did make one stop on the way there though, to buy a pair of black shoes that were identical to the pair he was wearing. Silas was carrying these when he arrived at the home of one Thrace L. Kasp and kicked in the front door. This was a small job, practically a freebie compared to what Saint's services usually cost. Thrace L. Kasp; age 27; relatively clean record;in reality a serial arsonist; murderer of over a dozen people, including the son of the man who had hired Saint; lives alone. The dumb bastard ran out of one of the rooms to find Saint standing in the splintered remains of what had previously been a heavy wooden door. Saint did have to give the kid some credit though because the second thing the boy did was run back into the room and grab a gun. Well, you couldn't be an idiot and get away with murder.

Too bad he never got a shot off. The second the kid raised his weapon, Saint kicked a piece of the shattered door across the floor at his feet. Kid's face was eating white tile before he knew what had happened, and he accidentally pulled the trigger as he fell, putting a hole in the wall nowhere near Saint.

Saint stood over the boy, the murderer, foot on the gun and the boy's hand. "You are Thrace L. Kasp," he stated flatly. The boy gritted his teeth and nodded, his eyes showing how much he hated the person standing coldly over him. Saint just looked back and asked, "Do you wish to tell me anything before you die?"

"Fuck you! Fuck all of you and your damn powers!" With his other hand, the boy pulled out an old cellphone and quickly punched a button. Silas' eyes widened as the house was engulfed in a massive fireball.

Damn, the kid had really had a thing for fiery explosions. Saint hung in the air for a moment, watching on as the force of the explosion spread the flames onto a neighboring house. Then he started falling back towards the ground as the momentum from his jump ran out. If the fall didn't kill him, the sea of flames he'd be landing in the center of certainly would. Saint's black shoes all but fell of his feet as he removed his imprint and placed it on a quarter he pulled from his pocket. It was a good thing he'd thought ahead and brought the second pair. Saint threw the quarter so that it bounced of the unburning side of the neighboring house, and then he swapped places with it, pulling the quarter back to him and replacing it in his pocket. Removing the imprint barely left a noticeable scratch on the coin.

After Silas was done putting on his new pair of black shoes, a quick search of the house revealed that no one was inside, thankfully. Silas walked outside as the flames began to really take hold of the bottom floor. He really hadn't expected things to escalate quite so fast. Blowing yourself up just because you were finally paying the price of your crime. Childish. Silas sighed, he'd fucked up. At least it was done. He pulled out his own phone and hit three buttons.

"I would like to report a fire."

The call had come late – even for her. She would let it ring for just a few more moments. At the balcony of her personal penthouse, she tipped the chair and leaned back and forth with both feet on the fence and some red wine in hand. The silk kimono covering her, vibrated slightly in the night-breeze. Somehow it felt like someone out there might sit under similar circumstances in this very moment, but that was crazy.
Just a few more sips and whoever is calling have gotten the point, she thought to herself.
As the point must have arrived on the other end, Kate peeked at the device rerouting the connection several hundred times before picking up the phone. One couldn’t have the cops trace it and ruining everything.
Line secure…

“Speak…” she mumbled into it.

“Is this The X?” it came from the other end.

“Speak...”

It was not unusual to have people ask dumb questions. There was no second time you could hire Kate, so most were inexperienced or downright armatures.
It was a man. He introduced himself under an obvious fake name and told some unlikely details about himself. Truth returned in his voice at last, as he explained he had gotten her number from a friend.
What followed was a long, long story about deceit, tragedy and the need for revenge. Just as emotional as it was angry. A hard drive in need of destruction became the climax of the request.
Only when the tale ended did Kate send back a sign of life while chewing on the words used. She removed her bare feet from the edge and spoke in a slightly harder tone. “Look, it seems like whoever gave you this number is a very good friend, but as a very good friend he should have begged you not to use it. I don’t do personal drama, because the pain you feel will be just a tiny bit easier tomorrow and the day after. So do yourself a favor… go live your life while you still have one.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” the male voice insisted.

“No, calling me because of personal feelings is not a way to live, dude; that is a way to die. Burn this number, go taste life.”
Hanging up like this meant that the other’s phone could never reach her again. Her expensive systems were nice and caring like that.
Not even if she had been in need had she accepted a job motivated by pain – not that kind of pain, anyway.
And now she was back to letting the city below reflect its light in her blue eyes. It was an all you can eat buffet. For someone like her it was x-mas all year long.
Gone were the cold nights and pathetic jobs for mere coin, replaced with penthouse, pool and expensive wines. Clients meeting on her terms, and a lair of only the most awesome military gadgets available out there.
Young, fairly rich, able to get it whenever however she liked. The American Dream times a hundred.
Some might call Kate’s lifestyle unjust profiteering, but she called it ‘simple progress by an opportunist.’
Kate Lockheart had almost experienced boredom, as the biggest challenge presented itself: The Government… the god damn Federal Government. The next logical step to escape a life where only soft beds existed. But to do the impossible; to take on the very society she lived in, would require a little more than a clear head and quick body…
However it is very possible. All kingdoms have their period and then they crumble. Those thoughts resonated well in her head.

It was hard to avoid the smell of sweet perfume wherever you chose to go in the penthouse. Souvenirs from all over the globe in a tasteful mix of stolen goods. A personal favorite was the Chinese scroll above the flat screen. But though her current outfit originated from the same place it was the mahogany table she headed to.
Knowing was half the battle, and there the files were.
A second reading would be required before she took them on, a third, a fourth even.
‘Shadow Boxer, Singularity, Lady Liberty… Eva, Gardner! NIGHTINGALE!!!’
The names just continued on. A frickin’ death squad.
One with the power to heal any wound. Then there was the one who could become metal. Then a bloody master of metal. Creating telekinetic constructs out of some kind of energy that barely seemed proven to even exist. And then we had the two that could fly… yeah, fly. Those were the really bad ones, the ones that could truly follow in her pace. But none of these bastards were your everyday goons or simple hired professionals. These were capes, enforcers… they fought battles with a strength bullets could never match.
Despite the research Kate did not plan on actually wrestling these people. But, but, buuut if they were to show up she needed to be ready.
For now the people in the photos’ only real disadvantage was that they had put themselves on display for her to watch. Painted a giant bullseye on their self-righteous capes. But somewhere behind the stolen journals lied mistakes. There always was. Mistakes and flaws. And as long as the government didn’t even know Kate existed she could pick the fights.

In one of the other rooms a fire was reported through Kate's stolen police radio, signaling the hell she was about to start.

Jack was drunk, slightly, ok, probably a bit more than slightly judging by the spinning in her head. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, after all, she had consumed most of a bottle of whiskey, and the broken vodka bottle in her apartment had been three-quarters empty before she’d knocked it off the table, necessitating her trip to the near her apartment. It probably wasn’t entirely sensible, but Jack was hardly known for her sense of caution, despite her success in tactical situations. Of course, when you can take a direct hit from anti-tank weaponry and live you tended to be filled with an inflated sense of indestructability, no matter how accurate that sense may actually be.

She rapped the bar with her empty glass, and the barman approached cautiously, he knew her, and what she could be like when she’d had too much. He did however, have a grudging respect for her, even if they could not be called friends. He took the bottle down from the shelf and moved along the bar to where she was resting both elbows on its stained top.

“You sure…”

The barman didn’t bother to finish the question, Jack had given him a meaningful look and he simply set the bottle down on the bar before her, then made his way down to the other regulars at the other end. The soldier simply upended what was left of the bottle into her glass, then went back to staring at the wall until the TV caught her attention.

It was on the city’s local news channel, a ‘breaking news’ story. Some place downtown had caught fire, or exploded. The news reporter didn’t seem sure, even in her drunken state though, Jack could see that it had to have been an explosion. She watched the muted TV for a while, then when nothing more interesting came on downed the rest of the whiskey and dropped a few bills onto the bar.

She hadn’t bothered with a coat, not that it was necessary in LAs stifling heat. She walked the few blocks to her apartment, and let herself in, keying in the code correctly on the second attempt. She stumbled up the stairs and into the apartment, then kicked off her shoes.

Absent mindedly crushing the smashed glass beneath her bare feet as she moved unsteadily towards the bed, and fell face forward onto it. She ignored the blinking light on her phone. Jobs could wait until the morning…

Rozalia found it hard to ignore the fire below. Although tempted to simply fly past and continue on her own special way of relaxing, and let whoever deal with it, a pang of annoyance rang through her as she remembered her new status.
That's right. She thought to herself. I'm a Hero now.
Sighing, she veered backwards and sank swiftly towards the ground, hovering a few feet outside the blazing ball of fire that had once been a house. Almost lazily, she raised a hand directed towards the house beside it, and a shimmering blue energy erupted from her outstretched palm. Creating a wall between the two houses within seconds, the energy shield she had created slowly forced the fire away from the neighboring house. Sirens could be heard in the distance, so with a thankful sigh, she realized these wouldn't have to stay long. Wondering again if she truly was cut out for the Hero business. She'd saved lives before, but only if it got in her way of surviving herself. She'd never heard a news report of a bridge collapse or gas explosion and shot right down to save the day. She'd just ignored the news and got on with her daily business.
Which in the recent past, had involved running. But now she didn't have to, she found herself lost - falling back on the Heroic business seemed like an easy job to take.
"I wonder if 24 is too young to retire." She muttered to herself as the fire engines came screaming to a halt outside the flaming house. The firefighters seemed somewhat put out to find her hovering there - she wasn't the most recognizable Hero, being one of the news - but they were professional enough, and worked straight away to put the fire out.

Once the other house was out of danger, Rozalia relinquished her shield and the energy dissipated. Giving the firefighters a satirical salute, she was about to fly back up into the air when she caught sight of a young boy waving at her from the window of the house she had saved, his mother stood by him with a thankful smile. Smiling back awkwardly -although her face mask covered it - she waved at the little boy and returned back to her usual flying route.
God, I hope they didn't take any pictures. She thought to herself dryly. It was a shame Heroism and publicity came hand in hand.

Ruby had the perfect guise, so perfect in fact that she would fit in without a single question being raised. It just required a few things. Add a nice helping of Hipster glasses and a quick pencil through her pinned-up hair and she looked like a pretty good-looking intern for Aperture Science. Of course, she was on par with the senior engineers there but she would just pretend to be a little dumb for a while. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

After pinning a fake name-badge to her shirt and slinging a laptop case around her neck, she headed off to Aperture headquarters. Unfortunately, she didn't have a lot of methods of travel so the public buses had to do the job today. It was good though; she couldn't be tracked back by cctv then. Getting off at her stop, she joined the throng of excited students and kept her cool through speech after long, boring speech.

The only fun actually started when she broke off from the main group when they got deeper into the building. She had studied the building plan which she may or may not have obtained illegally. After that, finding her way to the first security door was an absolute breeze. Luckily, Aperture hadn't been bothered placing their cameras far from the places they were pointed at so she could easily just give them a little lapse in actually recording images.

One door down, she proceeded down the abandoned hallway before going to phase two - lost intern mode. She was pretty so they probably wouldn't be questioning how she even got in. Making sure to unbutton her shirt down one button; she rounded the corner with her scared look as she peeked around.

Just as expected, two burly looking security guards were stationed at the door. Making sure to lapse the cameras there too, she approached a little as one of them piped up. "You lost girl?" She snorted inwardly at that - this girl was about to break into Aperture labs and steal satellite plans.

"Um... I was with the intern group and I think I got a little lost. Do you know where I should go?" She questioned, playing the damsel almost perfectly as she hid a silent smirk. Both of them looked at each other, not even working out that the only way in here was past security doors that no intern could pass.

"I'll show you the way back..." One of them answered as he nodded to his partner before moving forward. Almost instinctively, Ruby lifted her earphones and plugged them into her ears before flicking her music on. The guard was confused and continued towards her with narrowed eyes. As soon as her hand went for her pocket, his went for his own but not very quickly at that.

Within a few seconds, he was shuddering against her after being tazed. Being a big guy, he was a perfect meat shield - not that that mattered anyway. Dropping the lights away, she extracted the gun from his pocket and shot past him, aiming at the legs of the other guy. After a rather large grunt, she reasoned she had hit him and continued on for a bit with a smile as he tried to reach for his gun. "Bad idea, boy." With that, she connected her boot with his face and knocked him cold.

It felt satisfying but painful and Ruby was thankful that the cameras were off so no one could notice her hopping about holding her foot. Anyways, after that fiasco she passed through two other unguarded doors before arriving at the exact place she wanted to be.

Server rooms always felt nice to her. Ruby liked things cold and in there was particularly cold to keep everything running. Sighing blissfully, she allowed her eyes to lid over as she spread her arms and spun. The whir of machine, the hum of production. Oh; it was heaven. After shaking herself and telling herself she had work to do, Ruby quickly pulled a few small devices from her pockets and plugged them in to their respective locations.

Although this server room wasn't were all the main things were stored, she could still access them through the shared network of file-servers. The little devices were mainly to help her access things but once she was ready, she was processing through gigabytes of data in seconds. It took her way too long to find what she was looking for but she filled the time wit h dancing to music and mouthing the words.

Quickly passing the data onto a backup hard-drive, she took her own mental copy before pulling away her machines. Just as the music in her ears ended, another music started up that was none too pleasing. "Security breach. All personnel to sector twenty." After that, it was just random alarms going off.

"Shit."

Arc One: The Maywood War

Los Angeles has been greatly affected by the rise of metahumans, being considered one of the Cape Capitals of the world. In some parts of the city, the way of life has gotten better. Businesses have boomed for those able to employ these gifted individuals, and this boom has brought wealth to some neighborhoods. Others, already wealthy, have only grown more luxurious and exclusive. The Hollywood and Beverly Hills have all but become a gated community, filled with the rich and guarded by privately contracted defense companies. Life is good if you happened to jump onto the economic boom that is the super phenomenon.

However, in other places, life has not improved. In fact, it has gone down hill far faster than any could have thought possible. From Compton to Huntington Park, gang violence between the Bloods and Crips has exploded. The rate of violence spilling onto the streets has only grown, and not even the esteemed Magi deemed it worth saving. The potential losses were too great, the chances of it falling right back into corruption too large. Rather than waste valuable time and resources on the open gang warfare, efforts were made to contain the violence. Policing efforts redoubled around the known gang territories, while The Magi took to the streets, trying to talk to known or potential metas of the area and breaking up fledgling operations. To an extent, it worked. Warfare was contained.

These efforts did not take into account, unfortunately, East LA. After gifted became publicized, violence in East LA began to die down. Mexican gangs seemed to calm, although occasional bouts of street violence would occur. It wasn't until a year ago that the reason for this became clear. A once insignificant gang had been eating up the competition, incorporating them and recruiting fresh blood. The Nueva Tripulación al Este, or NTE had grown to control most of East LA, and was beginning to encroach into Crip territory.

Investigations would soon come to show that the NTE had grown to such power, so rapidly by using a combination of capes loyal only to the NTE, and a small amount of mercenary capes to take care of whatever their enforcers couldn't handle. The heads of the Tripulación had become underworld royalty, and their knowledge and connections to the darker side stretched farther than many would think. Even mercenaries they had never hired, these drug lords had contact info on should the need ever arise. That was all before the Maywood War, when the small army created by the NTE began open conflict with the Crips in the small neighborhood of Maywood.

For several months this war took its toll on the tiny incorporated city. Once peaceful, stuck between the gang wars to the south and north, blood finally spilled onto its streets. Buildings burned, children were killed, and capes on both sides met in combat to determine the victor of this war. By the end of the year, nearly a hundred were left dead, including a half dozen D Ranked metas. It was a stalemate, until the leader of the NTE was injured in a car wreck, and found with several grams of cocaine on his person. After being hospitalized and imprisoned, the police began their lengthy interrogation. During this time, the NTE were desperate for their leader, and began to target civilian buildings: Banks, warehouses, factories, even outside the scope of their war. The Cabrillo Group alone has lost tens of millions of dollars to property damage and liabilities.

Eventually, the police worked out a bargain for the NTE leader: Give up the identities and contact information for the two dozen plus unregistered mercenaries they knew of, and he would get away free. Currently, the NTE and police are in negotiations. Will the NTE agree, and throw their hired help under the bus? Or will the violence on the streets continue?

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